mine fate is that which is unwritten, that is what i have always been told; that i am to be that which i can be, and not fret about the great unknown destiny that might belong to my soul. yesterday we spoke of death, thou and i, thou knowst whom thou art... and i have been deeply engrossed in thought about the subject since then. what is this death that we all do fear? i yearn for it not, but then, nor do i shun it. i reached a realization that, while i do not expect to be short lived, i do not either expect to die. i understand that it is something inevitable, something that we can not escape, but i truly cannot begin to comprehend mine own demise. shall i be immortal then? shall i live out eternity? or shall i fade like the blossoms showing even now and be forgotten? or is mine destiny to be living on forever, but changing not at all? just as i cannot imagine mine own host's final fate, so i cannot imagine that i will never change. even now i can see all the trials that this imperfect metal hast gone through and how close towards mine own goal of this initial stage that i have reached. i shall have to mend a great many of mine own ways to realise this goal, however for now i am content with mine progress. so odd is it not? to speak of one's own progress as if one was watching the development of a character in a novel. i need to leave this forum of thought now, it is far too easy to give too much away when there is no audible audience to interrupt me. i tend to reveal too much.